


It’s Just You and Me

by DMitchell1985



Category: Original Work
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Female Character, Voyeurism, community: mmom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMitchell1985/pseuds/DMitchell1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebecca’s nightly round is steered toward an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Just You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> **Kinks/Warnings/Enticements:** Voyeurism, mentions of impending violence
> 
> **Author’s Notes:** I decided to write another supposed 100 word drabble for my Rebecca Peeping Tom-verse. I think it turned out okay. Tensing might be a bit weird. As always, con crit is gladly accepted.
> 
> This fic is [part of this storyline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/407767), but isn't a direct sequel exactly.

It was the old man tonight, her favorite. Rebecca smiled faintly to herself and leaned forward on her knees. The son and the father seemed to take turns with who chose to jerk off in the bathroom on any given night, which suited Rebecca just fine. However, she was still surprised that she had yet to be caught by either of them.

Theirs was a house that had windows that sat low to the ground, but was given some measure of thin privacy from large bushes that surrounded its perimeter. In reality, the bushes did little to shield the house’s occupants from Rebecca’s prying eyes.

She eagerly watched as the father flipped the toilet seat down and took his place. Within seconds, he had settled back against the tank and Rebecca’s fingers twitched toward the waistband of her jeans. She knew that she really ought to wear skirts on her outings for easier access, but crawling in the mud didn’t seem to suit her skirts or dresses.

Her hand imitated the father’s: flicking open the button of her pants, shoving her underwear down, fingers slipping down through her curls to her already slick flesh. Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment and simply enjoyed the feel of her cool fingertips between her legs. She wanted to rub off immediately, but tonight she wanted something different. She wanted to move at the father’s pace, bind them closer together.

Her eyelids slowly opened to the sight of the father inching his hand up the length of his shaft only to leisurely slide it back down. It would be a slow build this night, it seemed. Rebecca’s eyes wantonly feasted on the banquet of exposed skin before her. It was all she could do not to moan aloud at the vision of him, the imagined smell of his skin, the heat she was sure she would feel curling off of his skin to warm the very air around him.

Rebecca moved her hand in the shallowest of circles around her clit as she narrowed her eyes and focused on her distant companion. His hand had sped up in the space of two heartbeats. Her hand followed suit without delay. She watched as his eyelids slid closed over green eyes, but Rebecca forced her own to stay open. There wasn’t a second of this moment that she wanted to miss.

The father leaned his head back, gasping for air and exposing the lean muscle of his throat. Rebecca swallowed a groan as she watched his Adam’s apple bob in time to the movement of his hand. He was panting openly now, roughly jerking his hand over his cock. God. He was close. So incredibly close that even kneeling in the cold, dry dirt surrounded by the hundreds of prickling leaves of this man’s security bushes, Rebecca swore she could _feel_ his orgasm gnawing away at the father’s sanity. It was only a matter of time, all of which Rebecca would joyfully give to watch this radiant man pull himself off to the point of release.

Her fingernails ground into her clit, pressing the fleshy bundle of nerves deeper into the slippery confines of its protective hood. She could feel her orgasm fraying her vision around the edges, yet still, her eyes never left the path of the father’s palm. His body never failed to seize up in eloquent pain so delightfully severe, that Rebecca felt the phantom shock waves of it through the windowpane.

The father’s muscles snapped tight as his body convulsed and thick streams of white shot over his hand to decorate the bathroom tiles and his fingers alike. Rebecca watched his fist grip his cock tighter, milking out every drop of pleasure he could wring from his aging body. And then, Rebecca was following him over the edge, free-falling into oblivion, hastily biting down hard on her lip to muffle the sound of her cries.

Her eyes slipped closed, completely blocking out her view of the father. She wheezed heavily through her nose at the feel of her inner muscles expanding and contracting in time to the pulse of the warm fluid covering her fingers. Every part of her was alight with the effortless euphoria of release.

Rebecca took a quiet, deep breath; and opened her eyes to a sight that had frightened her worse than all the times she had nearly been caught in the twenty years she had sought out her important truths. The father’s eyes were open, his mouth was twisted into a cruel smirk of triumph, and he was staring out through the cracks of the blinds directly at Rebecca.

He knew.

Oh, God, _he knew_.

She was a dead woman.

She would have to go to jail and explain to her fellow prisoners that she was a pervert, who snuck up to other people’s windows to watch them jerk off, so that she could join them in their journey towards release.

She would never, not ever, live this shit down and she only had herself to blame. More or less.

Almost just as unexpected, Rebecca fearfully watched as the father unhurriedly licked his lips and placed his come-stained hand flat against the window as he deliberately nodded his head at her. Her heart stopped and her throat slammed shut. There was no way out of this. Not without killing the father and the son both to silence their damning eyewitness accounts of what she had done.

With each nod of the father’s head, Rebecca morosely considered her options. If it was to be them or her that survived, there could only be one solution. 

Her. 

Always her.


End file.
